


Changing the Game

by amaradangeli



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:19:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam catches Jack in a private moment, but maybe it wasn't quite accidental.<br/><img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art by Samantha-Carter-is-my-muse

Team nights seldom happened these days. They were all so busy or so so tired or so tired of being busy... But the colonel had put his foot down after a particularly harrowing mission that had seen them trapped on the wrong side of the stargate for more than a day and a half while she jerry-rigged a way to get them home. It had been a close damn call, but they'd made it. And so he was feeling celebratory. He'd invited them over for a couple of movies and some food on the grill.

The food on the grill part of the evening went pretty much as expected. He'd burned the meat, she'd tossed a pasta salad, the guys had provided a green salad and a tray of brownies from the local grocery store. The beer flowed liberally, Teal'c stuck to diet soda, and somewhere around about dark they popped in a movie more for the background noise than anything else.

What she hadn't expected was the whiskey to make an appearance sometime around the start of the second movie. But it had. And by the time they'd made it to the second act, Daniel was passed out in the easy chair, Teal'c had given up on them all and had retired to the only guest room, and she and the colonel were sipping out of low-ball glasses like they weren't both on the far side of having had a little too much.

"We shouldn't have started with beer," she remarked, "tomorrow is going to suck."

"We'll sleep in, it'll be fine."

"Says you. I'm the one crashing on your couch."

"It's a comfy couch," he said, bouncing a little as if to make his point. All he succeeded in doing is splashing himself with his drink. He licked the alcohol off his wrist and it made her insides clench with longing. Damn it. So that was the portion of the night they'd made it to. It was inevitable what with the drinking.

"Daniel's going to be up early. He'll want coffee."

"Just tell him to shut up and let you sleep. He'll go find a book or something."

"Or he'll just go home."

"Nah, he'll wait until we're all up. He'll want to go to breakfast."

It was true. He liked going to breakfast after they'd all spent the night together. It had happened often enough in the earlier, easier years that they knew that much to be true. "Blankets?" She asked him.

"Haven't moved them," he told her.

She nodded and went to the hall closet to pull down an old, soft quilt she'd always liked when this had happened before.

"Kicking me out, huh?" he asked her, watching as she kicked her shoes off, pulled her belt off, and unbuttoned her overshirt and stripped it off revealing a tank top underneath tucked into her jeans.

"No, sir, just getting comfortable. The movie's not even over yet."

She sat next to him, half undressed, for the remainder of the movie, sipping her drink and getting more and more aroused by the presence of him. It was self-torture more than anything else, because he wasn't doing anything other than sitting there and breathing. But, sadly, that was all it really took these days – she was so far gone for him. And he was gone for her too which was the real reason team nights didn't happen so frequently anymore. They just didn't much feel like torturing one another. And that was all it had really been since their zatarc declarations and promises to _keep it in the room_. And that had been years ago.

When the credits rolled on the second film he collected their glasses and Daniel's too and carried them into the kitchen. She listened to the sound of him moving through the house. He came back and leaned against the wall, backlit by the hallway light, the blue glow from the television highlighting his face. "If you need anything, you know where I am."

Well, when had she ever needed anything? And boy howdy, did that ever sound like an invitation. She felt her insides light up with the idea of it. She murmured something at him and started tucking herself in on the couch. He watched for a moment and then turned and took himself off to bed.

She laid still for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, contemplating what he might have meant by that statement he'd never made before. Soon enough, though, she couldn't get the idea that maybe it had been an invitation of some kind out of her head. She crawled out of her cocoon on the couch and crept down the hallway to his bedroom.

She stood there for long moments, unsure of what she should do. She contemplated knocking but then decided knocking on his bedroom door could lead to things that they shouldn't be doing. Invitation or not. If he had been issuing an invitation she'd be smart to ignore it. They way they'd ignored every moment that had arisen between them over the years and avoided throwing everything away.

His door was just pushed to, not latched. She put her palm flat on the door and pushed. It opened slightly, silently, rubbing across the carpeting. It wasn't the same as knocking, she insisted to herself. This wasn't opening the door to something, this was cracking it. She stopped when it was opened mere inches but when she had a perfect view of the bed and him standing on the far side of it, his back to the door, naked as the day he was born. She took a moment to enjoy the unadulterated view of his shoulders and back, his narrow waist, his delectable ass, his thighs... Then she realized, his arm was moving, and she knew, by the way it was moving, he could only be doing one thing.

She stood stock still, afraid to move, afraid to make a sound lest she startled him and he stopped. She licked her lips, wishing she could see him. And then... glory be to whoever, he turned just enough that she could see him in profile.

He had his hand wrapped around his turgid cock and he stroked himself languidly, no need to rush his pleasure. She watched the way he handled himself, the way he used his thumb to spread his precum over the head of his steely cock and down his shaft to ease his movement. He fisted himself and pumped his hips into his hand.

She bit her lip. It took everything she had not to make a sound. Her mouth was watering at the sight of him. Oh, how she wanted to wrap her lips around him... She licked those very lips, imagining she could taste him there, salty and sharp. The low-level arousal that had been a pleasant hum in her all evening was now a wicked buzz that made her nipples and her clit ache to be touched. She lifted her hands to her breasts and gave them a squeeze to dissipate some of the tension she was feeling, never taking her eyes off of him and what he was doing right in front of her.

He was still stroking himself, completely oblivious to her. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, the only sounds escaping him were sharp pants in time with the rhythm of his hand. Just as she was wondering how he was managing to stay standing he opened his eyes. She barely restrained a gasp as she was so worried he'd spot her, but he never looked towards the door. He just maneuvered himself onto the bed and reclined onto the pillows.

His cock stood out proudly from his body as he clenched his hands on his thighs. He flexed his hips pressing up into the air and she wondered what it would have felt like if he were pressing up into her. Wondered, for just a moment, if that's what he was picturing, too. Then he groaned her name, long and low. She flooded wet, with a tingle. It took everything she had not to go to him.

He grasped his cock again and started tugging, his pace quickening along with his breaths. Sam wished she were closer so she could smell him, hear the sound of flesh on flesh. She wished she were in bed with him so she could touch him, feel the silk of his skin, the satiny smooth, precum slicked skin of his cock. God, she wanted to touch him.

She could see the way he glistened in the low light of his bedroom and it made her wetter to know he was wet with his own pleasure. And still she found herself wishing he was wet with hers. She watched the way his hand swirled over his sensitive head at the top of each stroke, a practiced motion that made her knees weak with the idea of him doing this regularly.

He picked up his pace again, his hand becoming a blur of motion as he jacked himself towards completion. Sounds began to issue from his throat, soft grunts and groans, occasionally... her name. Everytime he'd hit the C, her sex would clench hungrily for him.

As he got closer his rhythm began to falter. He groaned her name, "Sam," as he came, shot his come up across his belly, spilled it over his hand. She let her eyes wander up to his face and was shocked to see his eyes fixed on her. She gasped, realized she was still holding her breasts, reached out and grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door shut as quietly as possible as quickly as she could. She made haste back to the living room where she slid under what was surely his grandmother's quilt and tried not to feel like she'd just completely invaded his privacy.

But he didn't seem to mind. He hadn't looked angry. He'd looked... he'd looked nothing short of satisfied. How long had he been watching her while she'd been watching the way he'd stroked himself? She ached to shove her hand down her own pants and alleviate some of the arousal that had built up within her, but while she'd done a lot of things that night she'd never done before, masturbating in a room with Daniel wasn't going to be one of them. She contemplated getting up and going to the guest bathroom, but _he'd_ hear her and he'd know what she was doing.

Was that so bad? She'd just watched him get off and he knew it. He hadn't come storming out of his bedroom – yet – to dress her down or kick her out of his house. For all she knew he was lying in his bed, happy and satiated, glad she'd watched, glad she'd taken him up on the invitation he'd issued. Because she was suddenly sure she was meant to see that show.

It made another flood of wetness rush into her panties. He'd _wanted_ her to see him. He'd done that _for her_. Holy Hannah, what was going on?

It took her a long time to get to sleep. Every creek of the house settling she was sure was him coming down the hallway. For what, she was uncertain. But, it was never him. Finally, though, she must have drifted off because it was morning when she opened her eyes and the smell of coffee permeated the house.

She looked around. Daniel was in the easy chair sipping coffee and reading a book, just as the colonel had predicted. "Morning, sunshine," he said to her, a grin on his face.

"Morning," she croaked, and she wondered how bad she must look to have elicited such a greeting. After all, she'd been drinking, she'd gone to sleep without taking off her eye makeup, and she'd barely gotten more than a few hours of sleep at all.

"Jack left towels for you in the bathroom if you want to take a shower. We're going to breakfast."

"Where is he?"

"He and Teal'c went out to get more coffee. We brewed the last of it for a half a pot."

"Oh, okay." So she didn't have to face him, not until she'd had a shower. That was good, she figured.

She took her hot shower and redressed in the clothes she'd worn the night before, sans panties which she tucked into her purse when Daniel wasn't looking. Just as she settled back into the couch and turned on the television she heard the front door open. She was instantly on alert. It took a few minutes as he went into the kitchen first, presumably to put away the coffee, while Teal'c appeared and took a seat in another chair.

Moments later he appeared in the living room, he zeroed in on her, his eyes giving nothing away but his voice, was thick and low, like it had been the night before. "Carter," he said her name like he had when he was stroking himself and she just knew he did it on purpose.

"Good morning, sir."

He gave her a knowing half smile, most likely for her choice of the honorific after what she'd seen. "You up for breakfast?"

"Yes, sir." She couldn't seem to stop saying it.

"I'm going to take a shower and then we can go," he said.

"I'll make some more coffee," she said getting up and moving past him.

As she brushed by him he snagged her arm, and said lowly so only she could hear, "If you need anything, you know where I am."

She flushed with color, his meaning clear. He was changing the rules of the game between them. "I think I can manage coffee, sir," she said, just as quietly.

He trailed his fingers down her arm, smiled predatorially when she shuddered and then shrugged and winked at her. She felt her knees turn to jelly and suddenly wished she was wearing those used-up panties anyway.

As she made the coffee, Daniel and Teal'c were deep in conversation in the living room. She clearly wasn't missed. A smile broke out across her face and she stepped out of the kitchen into the hallway. She turned left and headed for his bedroom. Maybe she did need something after all.


	2. Chapter 2

At his bedroom door, she hesitated. She looked back down the hallway as if one of the guys knew where she had gone, but she could still hear their voices in the living room. She knocked lightly and butterflies took flight in her belly. What was she doing? She stood there for a long moment, contemplating how stupid she was being, how she'd misread the signals, how the night before had been an aberration, when suddenly the door before her was pulled open and he stood in front of her bare-chested with a towel around his neck and shaving cream on his face. 

A smile quirked on his lips but he didn't say anything. Neither did she, she was gaping at him, like a goldfish, though, and he seemed to find that amusing. He reached out and wrapped a hand around her wrist and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind her. Finally, when he did speak, it was to say two words, "Sit down." He tipped his head towards his bed and made his way back into his bathroom. 

She looked uneasily at his well-made bed. This whole thing felt a little surreal. She sat primly on the end of his bed and found she had a view right into his bathroom where she was looking at the strong lines of his back and shoulders and could just see his face in the mirror. It was an interesting experience to watch him shave. She'd seen him do it in the field but she'd never really watched – it had always felt a bit too intimate. It felt intimate this time too, but she was sitting in his bedroom, on his bed, he was half naked, and she'd been invited here, for what, she wasn't too certain, but intimate seemed like the name of the game. 

She felt the familiar tingle between her legs and even as she tried to convince herself that she wasn't going to be needing such bodily preparations, she thought, maybe, just maybe, she might. 

He took his time, she noticed, gliding the razor over his face. And more than once she found she met his eyes in the mirror. Each time was like a string tied between the sensitive place inside her that was her pleasure and a spot inside the mirror and his eyes would tug, giving the most pleasurable, titillating sensation. She felt herself growing slick and slippery inside her jeans just off the weight of his gaze. 

Finally, he finished. She watched him bend and wash the lingering shaving foam off his face. Her eyes lingered on his backside, outlined by his trousers. It was a very nice backside, one she'd spent more than a little time contemplating over the years. She knew it well. As he stood up, he pulled the towel from around his neck and dried his face. She watched as it hid his face from view and then, as the towel and his hands dropped, their eyes met once again in the mirror and she felt, for the first time, the full force of his gaze, unencumbered by a task, and it felt like she'd been hit in the center of the chest. 

She gasped. He turned and leaned back against the countertop and stared at her. Her eyes wandered down, down, down his bare chest, tripped over the chest hair – she'd always had a thing for chest hair and his was going attractively grey, over his taut abdomen – _it's a miracle; crunches_ , to the front panel of his pants and she could see he was not unaffected by the way their eyes had kept clashing in the mirror. He didn't move to hide his burgeoning arousal from her eyes. 

He pushed himself off the countertop and sauntered his way toward her. He stopped about three feet away. His eyes were heavy on her. She suddenly felt compelled to speak to him. His eyes, it seemed, implored her to speak. "I owe you an apology." 

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You do?" 

"Last night--" 

He was quick to cut her off, "You don't owe me anything for last night. And you sure as hell don't owe me an apology." 

"I know you knew I was there. At the end..." 

"I knew you were there at the beginning," he revealed. 

She felt herself blush. She had the sudden urge to flee. She had the sudden urge to reach out and see what he felt like, half hard. 

"I feel..." But she found she wasn't quite sure how she felt. She felt a little off balance, sure. 

"Like maybe this is all a little off balance?" he supplied. 

It was like he was in her head. It was that way in the field though. What made her think it would be any different when it was just the two of them? "Yeah," she breathed. 

"I've got a theory," he said, and advanced on her one step. It forced her to tip her head back to look up at him slightly.  

"Yeah?" Her voice was still breathy but he didn't seem bothered by it. 

"I think you need a little of what I had." 

"What you had?" she asked dumbly. 

"Release," he said, stepping up to her. She leaned back to keep him in her field of vision. Her elbows hit the bed behind her and she found herself reclined on her CO's bed. And damn if that wasn't the stuff of fantasies. "I want to watch you, Sam." 

He wanted to watch her? Do what? He waited. Slowly, her lust-fuzzed mine caught up. He wanted to watch her... the same way she'd watched him the night before. Oh. Well. She'd never actually... in front of anyone before. Especially not in front of someone she wasn't already sleeping with. 

"You don't have to say yes," he said, but then he reached for her and threaded his fingers into the hair at her temple. She felt the way his fingertips glided over the shell of her ear. She shuddered. 

"What about Daniel and Teal'c?" 

"Teal'c has instructions to take Daniel to breakfast." 

"But... won't Daniel wonder where we are?" 

"Maybe." 

"But we don’t care anymore," she said, the weight that had been ever-present in her chest since they'd been staring at each other across a force-shield suddenly shifting away. 

"No, we don't care anymore." 

She wasn't worried about Daniel. Daniel had, not so long ago, expressed his opinion about Jack and Sam and how things should be between them. And she wasn't worried that he'd go around saying things to people he shouldn't say them to because he understood the potential ramifications of a change in the nature of Sam and Jack's relationship. So Teal'c and Daniel going to breakfast on their own was just... one step in a direction that was... just fine, as far as Sam was concerned. 

She suddenly had so many questions. Why last night? Why having her catch him? Why this cat and mouse? Why not something more conventional? And why was she wasting time with questions when she could be sprawled out on his bed halfway to an orgasm right now? 

Suddenly she was aware of things she hadn't been aware of before. Like the way his scent permeated the room. She took a deep breath and let herself relax. Her fingers, that had been clenched into fists on her thighs moved to the buttons of her shirt. She looked at him and watched a lazy smile spread across his face. 

"Yeah?" 

"Everything smells like you in here," she said, rather than answer him directly.  

His eyes went dark and smoldering then like he hadn't realized how much he turned her on just by being him until she'd said that. 

She made short work of her buttons and then she peeled her shirt off leaving her in her tank top. She pulled it off over her head quickly, before she lost her nerve but found, when she was in her bra, that her nerves weren't quite as steely as she'd hoped for. She felt goosebumps break out over her skin. She chased them away by smoothing her hands over her skin. First over her belly then up, over her breasts. He made a sound in the back of his throat as she held herself in her hands. The sound made her reach for the clasp. It made her brave. She was throwing the garment onto the floor in the next moment and then scootching back on his bed to recline against the pillows that were stacked against the headboard. 

He sat then on the end of the bed, so he could watch her. She wasn't sure if he was a breast man or not – some men where, some weren't and she didn't have the benefit of a sexual history with him to know whether or not to spend time here or not. This had to truly be about her and her pleasure. While the show might be, ultimately, for him, the release was hers and hers alone. 

So she took her time with her breasts, the way she liked to when she had the time and she was alone. She ran her fingertips over the smooth skin, scraped her fingernails over her nipples then pinched lightly, rolling the tightening buds between her index fingers and thumbs. 

She watched his face as she worked on her body and found that it turned her on so much more to see the way his eyes focused on her, flitted between her face and her breasts. 

Her hands traveled down her torso to trail along her belly flirting with the sensitive skin. She moaned lightly as she brushed against the undersides of her breasts on her upstrokes and tickled her abs on her downstrokes. She alternated between the teasing touches and gripping her breasts tightly to assuage the tension that was building inside her. 

Soon, she reached for the button of her jeans. She found that she wasn't feeling that self consious about taking her pants off. She popped the button and then, feeling bold she asked him, "Help me?" 

He got up from his perch at the end of the bed and pulled at her jeans from the ankles. They slipped down her body and he whipped them off and dropped them at the foot of the bed. In the most sultry manner she could, she spread her legs, first one and then the other. He gaped. She dropped a hand between her thighs and drew her middle finger up through her dewy wetness. 

Feeling reckless she pulled her hand up to her mouth and sucked the moist digit between her lips and hummed, sucking the essence of her arousal off her finger. She'd forgotten what she tasted like, the sweet, tangy, mild flavor.  

Jack licked his lips. His eyes had gone nearly black even in the well lit room.  

She dropped her hand back between her legs and circled her clit with her fingers. It felt divine and she groaned with pleasure. Her free hand moved up to her breast to toy with her nipple, not because she needed the stimulation, really, but because she knew the visual would be good for him and she really, really wanted this to be as good for him as she knew it was going to be for her. No, she was getting all the stimulation she needed right between her legs.  

Soon, though, the need to be filled was strong, and she trailed her second hand down her body, stopping to stroke her fingers over her ribs, or around her belly button, or over her hipbone. She slipped two fingers inside her herself, surprised to find she was so wet that she slipped incredibly easily.  

It was more arousing than she'd ever imagined to be doing this while he was watching. His eyes on her while she caressed her own body added an element that she couldn't have predicted. And it wasn't just that she wanted to put on a good show for him. It was that it was _him_. It was knowing that at any moment his grip could snap and he could surge toward her, yank her hands off her body, and fill her of his own accord. And damn if the idea of him snapping was turning her on to the point of making her wet and sloppy. She could hear her hands between her legs, moving in and out. It was almost embarrassing. 

Or, it would have been embarrassing if he didn't have that look on his face. That look that said that any minute he was going to be face first between her legs. And that just turned her on further. 

She made a needy sort of sound that sounded wanton even to her own ears. 

"What do you need?" he asked her. 

She licked her lips. There were so many things she _wanted_. But nothing she really needed. She was so close to coming. Could she really ask him for anything? But then, she realized, it was simple. What she really needed was incredibly simple. "Touch me," she said. "just, put your hand on me," she panted. 

He reached out and curled a hand around her ankle. Just the feeling of his warm skin on hers was enough to ramp her up to the point of no return. She felt the finish line creep up on her. It took just a few more circles of her fingers, a few more deep thrust and she felt the power of an orgasm grab her and turn her in on herself before making her fly apart. 

When she came back to herself, Jack's hand was on her naked hip and he was sitting up next to her, his other hand gently stroking her sternum and brushing against the swells of her breasts. She had no clue how long it had taken her to ride the wave of her pleasure, but it must have taken her a bit because he had a slightly bemused smile on his face. 

"You want another shower?" he asked her softly. 

"I want a nap," she said languidly. 

"Samantha Carter's naked in my bed, asking for a nap," he said and shook his head as if to dispel a dream. "Things are going to change now." 

"Things have already changed," she pointed out, and then yawned. 

"Go to sleep," he said, chuckling. 

"Come with me." 

He laid down on the bed next to her, wearing a grin. "I'm not tired." 

"Oh," she said, languidly, reaching for him, "I think we can fix that." 


End file.
